


Religious

by anonymous_dragon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: I only have this bit written up though, I'll probably post prequels later, Questioning Religion, and several years after Kan was in a car crash, backstory: this happens after Kan and Cro meet for the second time, if anyone's interested, maybe I'll post more later, religious Kankri, this is part of a bigger thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_dragon/pseuds/anonymous_dragon





	Religious

Kankri found himself thinking of that night far too often for his liking. Throughout the month, he worried over it, like the gap of a lost tooth, continuously running his tongue over the revealed gum left behind. The text from Sufferer, bland and formal, inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner, hardly caused this level of thought. Kankri preached outside the bar where he had seen Cronus more often than he preached elsewhere. He walked down Cronus’s street more frequently, but didn’t dare approach his door. This was simply God testing him, that was all. Kankri would prevail; he was only walking the street to be sure an ambulance wasn’t there, bringing out Cronus’s limp body. He only spoke outside the bar so often so that, if he were to see Cronus, he could offer further advice so the man didn’t end up dead.

At least, Kankri could find solace in thinking this.

And, yet, his dreams were filled with violet, like Cronus’s eyes, with tints of gray. There was never sound. Kankri was hardly present in his dreams, with no corporeal form, simply watching. The night came back to him, over and over. The image of Cronus’s eyes, Cronus curled around himself, Cronus only a centimeter from Kankri’s own face—they all swirled through Kankri’s unconscious mind. The touch of Cronus’s lips stayed with him, as well, staining Kankri’s thoughts. The first time, sharp and indignant and defiant, a threat and a weapon, made dreams of purple, of bruises and swollen lips, of blatant sin that made Kankri’s stomach churn. The second, gentle, a thank you, an expression of gratitude for kindness, stirred questions. Judas had kissed Jesus. Even if it had been to distinguish him for death, the fact that it had been an accepted action meant it was common, and that meant it couldn’t have been a sin. Jesus had never sinned, so then why—

_I am not supposed to question the Lord,_ Kankri insisted. _I cannot question my God._

With how much desperation had Judas kissed Jesus, an apology and an accusation, both death sentence and deliverance? Had Judas clung to the body of Christ, hands made into fists around his clothing, holding onto the only true purity Judas had ever known? Was that the moment Judas recognized the sin he had committed, condemning the Son of God? Was that when he decided he himself had to die?

But Jesus had to die, that’s what he was sent to do, so Judas was just carrying out God’s orders. Why is he punished for—

He turned Jesus over to the Romans, knowing that he would die. There could be nothing else more worth punishment than that.

Kankri couldn’t help but wonder, though, how God justified his punishments. Reading back over the rules and regulations where homosexuality was listed as a sin, Kankri’s stomach turned at the thought of the so-called ‘crimes’ that were punished by stoning. If a woman refused to marry the man who sexually assaulted her, she was to be stoned. If a man left a woman, but she remarried before he did, she had committed adultery, and was to be stoned. The ‘crimes’ did not meet the punishments.

How could these even be sins to begin with?

Kankri shook his head, unable to believe that perhaps, _perhaps_ Cronus had been right, that maybe God was unjust and what He had written as sin simply couldn’t be. But that would make God evil, to punish people wrongfully for acts that could not be sinful, and that would mean an evil God rescued him from that crash.

Kankri winced. He still could hardly think the word. His thoughts went to the scars on his body, where pieces of broken metal had clawed into his skin, where burning gasoline had scorched him beyond repair. His hands went to the cross at his throat, clasping the charm.

“Dear Heavenly Father, blessed be your name. I fear I have come to question Your ways because of the words of someone You call unholy. And even if I agree on the point that how he is living cannot be healthy or sustained, perhaps some aspects of him are not completely deplorable. After all, many things You deem sinful cannot be. How could a woman be punished if it was the man who abused her? Why must she be stoned? Is it not the man’s fault? Shouldn’t the blame be cast on him?” Kankri sighed, bowing his head. “I am loathe to question You and Your ways, but now I am looking at Your word through new eyes, and I cannot make sense of this. I cannot make sense of Your punishments and policies on what is sin. And if that is not sin, then perhaps others are not, either? After all, You list this as a punishment demanding death, but homosexuality is warned against, alongside wearing clothing of two different cloths and eating seafood. If two are decided to be acceptable—after all, we cannot help but wear different cloths, with how clothing is marketed now—then why isn’t the third?”

Kankri shook his head, ashamed for asking such a thing. He hung his head. “Forgive me, Father, I did not mean to defy Your ways.” Kankri turned the showerhead on and bathed again, an attempt to clean himself of the sins he contemplated.

He returned to his place outside the bar, preaching once more. “Our God seeks to save everyone He can, but He cannot condone sin! This is why you must cast away your cloaks of greed and your layers of pride, and surrender fully to His love and care! You must heed His commandments, accept His rules! You must take His son, Jesus Christ, as your loving Savior and Messiah, who came from the Heavens to save us all from the clutches of sin!” he shouted, holding pamphlets. He passed them around. “We are approaching the End of Days, and, to preserve your soul, you must do as God commands! We must—”

Kankri glanced through the bar window, and, for a moment, thought he caught a glimpse of Cronus. His words stuck in his throat, and he froze, unsure what to think. But then the person turned, and Kankri saw it was not actually Cronus, but someone with similar hair. His stomach dropped; disappointment flooded through him.

He returned to his sermon, heavy-hearted. “We must put on the armor of Christ, don His Word as our sword and shield. Do not let sin tempt you to stray from the path of righteousness! You can be saved, no matter your previous history! Devote your life to Christ, and you will live in the eternal kingdom of Heaven!”

The crowd dispersed after his speech, and Kankri glanced back through the bar window, unsure if he was hoping to see Cronus or not. Either way, he didn’t see him, so Kankri walked away.

That night, he dreamed of purple stains against a white background, bleeding through the fabric of his subconscious. Silence resonated throughout the dream again.

And so Kankri’s life continued how it had before, even if his thoughts didn’t. He tried not to question God, but he couldn’t help but beg for answers every so often. Thanksgiving came quickly without Kankri paying attention to it. He almost didn’t realize, but he had set an alarm to remind him to get ready. He dressed in one of his nicer suits, reserved for baptisms and holidays. A salad in hand, he took a cab to the new address Sufferer had given him for the dinner. Riding the elevator to the top floor, Kankri knocked on the door. Kankri occupied himself by fixing the cellophane over the salad. The door opened.

“Hello, Sufferer, a pleasure, as always,” Kankri forced himself to say. When he looked up, he almost dropped the salad.

“Uh ... ‘ey, older Vwantas, I think your brother’s here,” Cronus called over his shoulder, before returning to staring at Kankri. “Didn’t knowv y’wvere related t’Suff,” he said coolly, addressing Kankri now. “Wvhat happened t’you an’ not them?”

Sufferer walked over. “Thanks, Cro,” he said, nodding. He opened the door wider to look at Kankri. “You brought a salad. I’ll take it to the kitchen. Come on in.” Kankri let Sufferer take the salad bowl, still staring at Cronus.

Cronus walked away. Kankri followed, hesitant. He touched the cross around his neck, for the first time not feeling comfort because of it. _God help me._ Kankri wasn’t sure if He heard or not.


End file.
